


Bite, Suck And Swallow.

by DirtyMartini (Zetaii)



Category: GOT7
Genre: Angsty ish, M/M, Mark the badboy who´s great at rolling weed, Smut, but is also a history major, fluffy ish, lots of blowjobs tho like wow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-13 06:33:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5698528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zetaii/pseuds/DirtyMartini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If I can share my silence, it´s probably love."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bite.

_"If I can share my silence, it´s probably love."_

_-_

Loud bustling, deep laughter and thumping noises of heels hitting the floor; their footsteps felt like a warning, an ominous threat; powerful, noisy and  _extremely_ uncomforting. Six p.m on a Friday. It was six p.m on a Friday, on a landscape of dry, dessert-like grounds and no civilization near unless you drove for a good fourty-five minutes; it was a misty day, really, the gas station lights barely flickering, struggling to keep awake just like himself; the boys stepped on the few and only flowers on a small bed right outside of the station - stepped inside like they owned the place.

Jackson Wang decided it was the first time working there in which he felt physically uncomfortable; on his toes, ready to jump.

 He snapped down from balancing on his rusty chair, feet firmly on the floor.

“Hey!” One of the boys shouted. “Have any beer up here?”

Tall,  _really_  tall;  legs for days and a tone of voice that didn´t match his face - Jackson snapped down from rocking on his chair for a second time and took a good eyeful of the quartette; leather wearing, mean-faced, cigarette-smoking boys.

Hopelessly drunk, too, Jackson quickly realized.

“So?” The tall boy demanded.

Jackson took measure and thought about what to say; more worried about what they´d do to him if he didn´t answer than what would happen if they crashed and died from the drunk driving they were obviously doing.

“Speak to me normally, please, I´m not your dog.” Jackson said, slowly. “And there is beer in the refrigerator in the back; Coronas and Heineken.”

Two of the four went to the back, loud and rowdy, laughing - Jackson assumed it was  _him_  they were laughing at - while the other two stayed in front looking at the different, overpriced but underwhelmingly tasteless bags of chips. Jackson should´ve mentioned they were way past their expiration date, too.

“Yugyeom, you piece of shit, did you take my last cigarette?” the boy from before shouted after tapping his pockets vigurously. “You have asthma you lousy son of a bitch, do you want to fuckin´ die?” 

Who Jackson assumed was Yugyeom, one of the boys in front of the registers, simply flipped him off and clicked his tongue.

“Go kill yourself, it was Mark, not me.” 

Jackson guessed Mark was the  _other_  person at the register, whos face he couldn´t identify as he was sitting with his ass on the counter and his legs dangling off the edge, posture looking smug and just as full of himself like the rest of them; Jackson noticed his nails were clean, however, and unlike the others, his boots were brand DocMartens.

Expensive taste for a cheap boy, he thought.

“It was me, Jinyoung, I´ll make it up to you.”

Jinyoung finally smacked down four bottles of Corona beer by himself; shaking the glass of the counter and Jackson did not know what to say; he had seen a lot of folk in his time working at the gasoline station; from little boys drinking and smoking to prostitutes and tourists crying, but supermodels with a bad attitude was definitely a first.

He was so impressed, in fact, that he didn´t realize the fourth boy made a quick run for it behind the hustle infront of the register - the gasoline station didn´t have any working cameras, these boys obviously planned this.

“How exactly are you gonna pay back, boo?” Jinyoung said, face suspiciously close to Marks; Jackson could smell the scent of alcohol, could see the bounce in his step from lack of balance - whiskey, maybe?

“Want coupons for unlimited blowjobs? fuck outta here Jinyoung.”

Jackson scanned the items as fast as he could and hoped the trio would just leave; Mark was sitting on the counter, he should´ve said something about it - he didn´t. 

“Nine thirty.” He said.

Mark turned around, first time having a proper look of his face, and Jackson was sure he felt it too; a moment of  surprise, taken back, a moment of spark, an indescribable moment of chemistry that he thought only existed in fiction books; he snapped down for the third time from balancing on his chair, scanner in his hand, this time in case he was going to fall back, snap his neck and kill himself.

“How old are you?” Mark asked after what felt like an eternity and a half, eyes dropping immediately to his lips.

“That´s…” Jackson tried, he tried so hard, licked his lips, self-conscious. “…none of your business.”

“Live around here?”

Mark didn´t get or even honestly expected an answer from the other - His voice felt like it echoed from the walls rather than coming from an actual human being on the same planet he was on; if his voice had a colour, it would definitely be  purple, Jackson decided.

“Here, keep the change.”

The change was the price of the beer itself; before Jackson could say anything, do anything, think normally, catch his breath, the quartette was already outside, but he didn´t miss Jinyoung smacking Marks head, hard.

“BamBam just stole the fuckin´ booze and you pay them? what the fuck, Mark?” 

Jackson, despite getting shouted at by a group of fashionable drunks, robbed, and shouted at some more, couldn´t bring himself to care, 

shit, he was paid too little to actually do something about it, he decided, replaying the short scene with Mark for the rest of the night, 

honestly, he hated himself for it.

-

“So what you´re saying is,” Jaebum always had a way of making other sounds stupid. Jackson did not know why he still told him every single detail like he did. “that these guys literally stole alcohol, distracted you, shouted at you and you´re convinced you had  _´a moment´_  with one of them.”

“Yes.” Jackson said, overwhelmed at how delirious his story sounded coming from someone else.

“Jackson.” Jaebum put his hand over his psychology books. “You´re a _fucking_ idiot.”

Ouch.

“I mean think about it logically, wasn´t he just distracting you and you fell for it? are you even gay?”

“I´m not!” Jackson shouted. “I mean, you _know_  I don´t  _care_  - but JB, he paid me the  _exact_ amount of what they stole. The  _exact_ amount.”

“You sure? did you check it wasn´t monopoly bills instead? think he might want to be your sugardaddy?”

Jackson sighed, reading his notes but not actually taking any information in - the guys seemed like bad news, they robbed and smoked and surely they drank and drove; but then again, half their insults came from concern over Yugyeom who had asthma, the other half about blowjobs.

Jackson wondered if they were really that different; so after trying his hardest to read the words on the page and a few scribbles of dicks surrounding their annoying headache of a music theory teacher, he sighed.

“Say, would you let me cheat off of you in our music class if I give you a blowjob?”

“Oh please, when will choke?”

-

Jackson and Jaebum lived together, stuck together and worked together; their other list of “togethers” included _studying_  together before Jaebum dropped out  of psychology and studied fine arts instead,  _going to the supermarket_  together chasing after cheap, student friendly 8-pack liquor deals to spend more money on  _getting high_  together and shamefully but ever-so-greatly,  _fucked a girl_ together. Once. Really.

Jackson liked guys. Jaebum did not.

Jackson liked girls, Jaebum definitely did too.

Jackson wasn´t gay. Or necessarily identified as bisexual.

There was never a big “coming out” stage in his life, never did Jackson feel uncomfortable with who he was, what gender he wanted to stick his dick in or what gender he wanted to marry and happily die for.

He told his mother in primary school,  _apparently_ , that he loved a French boy he met on fencing camp over the Summer - didn´t mention it until Jackson brought his boyfriend home six years later, sixteen years old; she cried a lot.

And so did Jackson when said boyfriend ditched him, picked him up and broke him down on Valentines day, leaving him to look dumb, stupid and utterly made fun of in the loud streets of the romantic New York City.

Jackson was  _convinced_  the boy was staring down on him, perhaps from a very tall building with binoculars and his circle of friends, all pointing at how god damn  _gullible_ Jackson Wang is.

The denial phase sitting pretty sickening in his stomach, that was the same day Jackson met Jaebum; Jackson holding a bouquet of roses and ever-so-hardworking Jaebum running from the cafetaria he worked at to the office he helped out in, knocking Jackson straight down on the floor.

At least it kept him from crying in public, in the sad rain on the slippery road.

It was a good hint of what their friendship was going to be like.

After some pseudo-deep conversations impulsed by after midnight roadtrips and staring at the moon while passing a joint; Jackson decided to say goodbye to pretty boys and they decided to go to the same university. 

It was also the night where Jackson kissed Jaebum like he´s never been kissed before. So despite the rat-infestations, food-poisoning, Jaebums raging sex life and the lack of his own aside, everything went  _fine._

Calm, monotone, maybe, random spurts of high when the felt like being especially stupid, but mostly,  _boring._

It was a privilege to feel that way, his mother would say, so he didn´t complain about it, decided that the love stories and high lives of the movies were really just fiction, and that we´re all here to wake-up sleep and die.

He was fine with that.

“Eager to fill up some cars?” Jackson asked when Jaebum walked in a good two hours before his actual shift began. 

“Nah, I didn´t go on Saturday, remember?”

Oh.

Minutes passed and Jackson already re-read all the interesting non-pornographic and pornographic magazines they had to offer  _twice_  while eating Haribo candy he definitely shouldn´t have been eating - Jaebum too lazy and cold to actually stand outside like he was paid a minninum wage for to do, so he took an old beach chair out of the basement and studied in it.

There were no working cameras to tattle-tale, anyway.

And the toilets leaked.

And half the food was past its expiration date, and the marble on the floor was cracked, and so were the windows after a shoot-out they were thankfully not present in, and if inspection came to see what was up, they´d definitely have to shut the place down.

It´s not like they´ve ever met the boss of the national million-dollar chain anyway; just a distressed middle-aged and curiously also Asian manager who left packing when the boys settled in.

The sun began making room for the moon again, so Jackson flicked the lights on - flickering, yellow.

It was eight p.m when they heard loud engines pull up in their parking lot; rock music playing hard, Jackson recognized it was _System of a Down_ , people shouting - Jackson saw the car brand, and snapped down on the floor on instinct, Haribo stuck in his mouth.

Before Jaebum could ask, Jackson told him that´s him, and then Mark opened the door, pulled instead of pushed, and Jaebum laughed alone, loud, head falling back. 

“Good evening,” Mark said, eyes going straight to Jackson who inversly stared straight into the Latina-centered porn magazine in his hands.

Jaebum watched the scene, amused.

“Are you out of Coronas?” Mark asked from the refrigerators - Nobody answered. “I guess you are.” He sighed loudly and opted for the Heineken instead. 

Jackson dared to sneak a glance, and wondered if he wasn´t cold wearing nothing but a very loose tank top at this time of day.

“Your friends aren´t gonna come in to steal shit?” Jaebum asked when Mark grabbed the same packet of Haribo candy and put it between his teeth since his hands were already full.

“Are you going to report us?” It wasn´t a question, it was a cocky dare hidden under a sweet unknowing voice. “You can do it, you know.”

 _Clank._  The beer on the glass counter.

“We _should_.” Jaebum offered, stretching his arms. “But I can´t be assed. Can I ask you a question, though?”

“Who  _are_  you?”

“You´re really thirsty for my friends dick, aren´t you?” 

A silence, Jackson would´ve kicked him off the chair and on the floor if he wasn´t perplexed by the question; He wanted to die, and couldn´t look at Mark´s expression over the sheer embarrassment.

Mark smiled.

“I think your friend is one of the most gorgeous people I´ve ever had the luxury of seeing, yes.” He said. “And I think he shouldn´t be scared of me, I´m not mean.”

“Jackson has had bad experiences with pretty boys like you - you and your little squad seem like bad news, too.”

“Is that what this is about?” The boy laughed sincerely, squatted down to meet Jackson´s eyes, his head resting on his crossed and naked arms over the counter. “Jackson, _hm?_ ” 

Jackson stuttered saying the total of his item, dear god, Mark had toned arms.

“Jinyoung is the only scary one you know. You should talk to me.”

A few moments passed, he waited, and waited, and then Mark sighed.

“Oh well,”

Assuming he fucked up before even trying anything, Jaebum watched him leave towards the door - so he grabbed the closest pack of chewing-gum to him and aimed for his friends dumb-looking face.

Jackson snapped up immediately, feeling assaulted by his friends for the second time that day he wanted to throw it in his face twice as hard, but then he noticed Mark leave, the distance making the air feel less tense, less physical, like oxygen pumped right in his chest and  he could breathe again.

“ _Come by tomorrow._ ”

It was loud and clear, surprised by his own voice; Mark smiled, hands on the door.

“To reimburse the stolen bear. Come by tomorrow.” 

Then he left, no words exchanged; not a simple conversation had - just phrases with no replies.

-

“...and then the police came, but we were underaged at the time, so the blame fell on our pare-“

Frankly, Jackson was shocked to find Mark sitting on the beer refrigerator talking to Jaebum infront of the register like they´ve known each other forever and always. He didn´t think far ahead.

“Didn´t think you´d actually come.” 

“Oh Jackson, finally.” Jaebum quickly got up and catched the keys Jackson threw his way. “I´ll pick you up after work, then.” then he turned to the boy sitting on the refrigerator. “My pleasure,  Mark.”

Mark waved him goodbye and then they were alone; the realization truly sinking in when they heard the engines of the car - Jesus Christ, Jackson thought, what did he get himself into.

“Good evening Jackson.” Mark said, swung his legs over the counter to sit on it, he always seemed to have to sit on  _something_ , and he did it so inappropriately and oddly sexual, Jackson wanted to die. 

“Evening.” He said awkwardly. “Why don´t you...throw out the old food?”

Mark looked at him weird, almost amused.

“You´re actually making me work for it, aren´t you?”

A silence. 

“Sure then,  _boss_.”

And he did. For a whole fourty-five minutes without exchanging a word; honestly it made Jackson even more nervous than when he was desperately trying to get a word out of him - agitated, he smacked the magazine he had already read down on the counter hard.

“Just wondering but, don´t you have anything better to do?” 

“You told me to do this, didn´t you?” Mark said calmly, still looking at the dates behind each and every ramen pack.

“I mean-”

“Whether all I do is drink and and get into fights or not?” Mark sighed. 

Jackson felt a little guilty.

“I´m a history major.” Mark eventually said, standing up from his kneeling position. “Second year - not just me, Jinyoung studies English, Youngjae engineering and Yugyeom and BamBam both have contracts with a model agency.”

Hands on the counter, looking down on Jackson.

Clean nails, burnt hair and the most suffocating presence Jackson had ever felt. He looked up at the other, entranced, curious, awestruck.

 “But that doesn´t mean anything, right?” Intimidated, attracted. “Because at the end of the day,  _we´ll_ still steal booze if we feel like it, get high, drink and drive - degrees won´t change the facts we´re...”

“good-for-nothings?” Jackson offered.

“Good for nothings, sure, and if Jinyoung graduates from an Ivy League and you work at a gasoline station for the rest of your life,  _he´ll_  still drive past speed limit, and  _you´ll_  still give money to the homeless, right?”

Right.

Mark had entirely, perfectly and undoubtly gotten him in less than two minutes time..

He laughed, he laughed hard. It was so funny, he figured, how simple everything actually is, how scared he was for no reason; the tension never left, but Jackson finally, somehow, magically, felt like he was on the same wavelength as the other.

So he looked at him right in the eyes, tongue out, a little cocky. “My apologies then, mister history major.”

“Apologies accepted.” so he bent over to snatch a piece of candy from the bag Jackson was eating from. “Besides, Jaebum told me you aren´t exactly doctor ethical yourself.”

“Aren´t I a hypocrite?” He watched him suck on the candy like he was born to do it; teeth forcing out the industrial goo, sucking the good flavour out of it with his eyes closed.

Jackson was convinced he was making a show of it.

“You just reminded me of my ex, don´t think too hard about it, pretty boy.” 

Mark smiled, licked the sugar off his fingers. “Ex huh? What kind of guy was he?” 

“Like a trip. Took it like a champ; pissy for no reasons - long lean legs, nice lips and...” they looked at each other, the cars on the highway being the only noise on the planet for a few lonely seconds, they were alone, too. “...and nice hands. I really liked his hands.”

“Think I can restore your faith in guys like me, then?”

Jackson thought he definitely could, so he picked up the cigarettes from the counter, quarter past eleven,  stood up and walked towards the door.

“Let´s go outside.”

-

Three days, and nothing in it felt easy; Jackson didn´t think he liked people who fell into someones lap so quickly, and while everyone around them would´ve said that that was exactly what happened, Jackson still felt like he had chased after Mark for a whole liftetime before they stood outside, leaning against the wall, sharing cigarettes and thoughts.

If his ex was a trip, Mark definitely felt like a promise of a one-way, no-refund ticket straight to Hell.

Lip-biting, hair-touching, the wall they were leaning on blocking the wind.

“Are you happy?” Jackson asked, between conversations about their favourite TV show and music artists - surprisingly, Mark liked hip-hop more than he liked rock music.

“That´s a dumb question.” Mark said. “The question should be, _are you happy most of the times?_ ”

“That´s so pretentious. What does that even mean?”

“Like you can be sad now,” cigarette on the floor, stepped on it in his boots. “ And be happy in ten minutes.”

“That´s either you being so depressed you trick yourself into believing that, or it´s magic.”

Mark cocked up his eyebrow, ready to grab another cigarette. “We´re talking about depression now?” 

“N-“

“Are you happy right now?”

Jackson thought about it.

Didn´t answer.

“I can show you magic, if you want.”

And he did.

On his knees on the dirty ground; like the good-for-nothing he was not caring about the cars passing by at high velocity; no working lights around to perfectly admire the scene; it was cold,  _very_  cold - Mark touched him a bit, experimented a bit, and it was when he felt the hot ash of Jackson´s cigarette falling on his neck and  grabbed his hair when he took him right there; licked sucked and swallowed, fast, rude and dirty.

Jackson, ironically with just jeans around his thighs and unconsciously leaving Burn Marks neck, thought the adjectives fit him well.

-

Overtime, Jackson couldn´t stop thinking about Marks mouth, the thoughts violating his good conscious at the oddest hours of the day;  the whole composition of his lips, jaw and teeth; the curve when he smiled, the exposed teeth when he spoke, how nice he looked with anything in his mouth, biting, sucking, licking.

Sucking on lollypops became a dirty habit, little kids on the street looking at him weird.

Mark noticed - in the two weeks after that episode they would see each other everyday, either for a few minutes or long hours into the night; smoking cigarettes and sharing sweaters or jackets when they felt cold, thoughts that weigthed less than glitter, but also more than gold.

Jaebum noticed, too, and he told himself he´d confront Jackson about it at some point; mostly when he was cooking and let the food burn, or when he said he was studying but was daydreaming instead.

Saturdays was Jaebums day off, it was the day Mark usually came alone.

Sometimes they wouldn´t even talk, really, just appreciating each others silence; other times only one of them would do the talking, and the other would listen, carefully, taking note of the little things.

Like how Mark had the nervous habit of biting his nails, and like how Jackson wanted to be an astronaut when he was little.

“Do your friends know you come here?” Jackson asked one day, late afternoon when the sun was down - it was a Monday, and Jaebum always made their conversations a little more entertaining than they were deep or philosophical. It was a nice balance.

“I´ve mentioned staying with someone - not sure if Jinyoung would like it if he knew I was here.”

“How so?” Jackson thought back on the dick-sucking comment they met each other with; it wasn´t the first time he remembered since he started this  _thing_  with Mark, but he shoved the thought aside everytime, anyway.

“He´s a little apprehensive about new people in our lives; we´ve been bestfriends since forever.”

“Bestfriends suck each others dick?” Jaebum said, as if he took the comment straight out of Jacksons head. “Well shit, Jacks, we´ve skipped that rule in the book.”

Mark looked at him, grinned. “In our little scary world, we do  _everything_  to each other, innocent Jaebum.”

Mark loved teasing others like this, Jackson noticed - but was a lot more quiet than you´d think; he´d just want to lure you in, effort of his interest, and then really be comfortable with his own silence.

Jaebum couldn´t bite back, because a car pulled over and Jackson noticed it was the one his group drove in; beaten-in black and dirty;  he pointed towards it, and they turned around, happy enough until someone got kicked out of the car.

“What the-“

The two youngest boys were beating each other, the bigger one holding the other on the ground, grabbing his hair, exchanging punches and desperate kicks - the other two stayed frozen, still, not because they  _wanted_ to, but because they didn´t know  _what_ to do.

Jackson and Jaebum made quick work of running outside, leaving Mark just as frozen inside; they couldn´t believe it.

“Hold up hold up _hold up!_ ” 

The taller one, Yugyeom, was definitely big - but Jaebum had more self control than him  and could lock his arms to prevent him from punching the older some more; Jackson helped the other to stand up.

“Alright, first stealing shit and now fighting here? do ya think this is your damn house?” Jaebum said, pinning Yugyeom against the car to hold him down from fighting him; he grunted, kicked, pulled, bit and shouted, but Jaebum was just a little faster.

Then and only then did the other three come outside; Jinyoung and the driver mildly surprised by seeing Mark walk out of the gas station, attention quickly replaced by the skinnier boy who started crying and, although the others didn´t notice, Jaebum saw Yugyeom was, too.

“BamBam...” Mark said, kneeling down next to him. “...Why?” 

“I´m sorry Yugyeommie...” He sobbed, covering his face with his arms. Mark could just look at Jinyoung for some sense of direction; their unofficial leader. 

Except he looked just as lost, or rather, sad.

“BamBams mother found out about _that_.” He said.

“You son of a bitch, if you go, I´m going with you.” Yugyeom said, face still pressed against the car.

BamBam screamed out of desperation, and Jackson was completely lost.

All he knew was that everything felt automatic afterwards; a rotation. Jaebum loosened his grip and the driver, Youngjae, helped him in the car, Mark whispered something to BamBam and they got in, too.

“Jackson...”

Jackson nodded. “I have your sweater, just so you know.”

Mark smiled weakly but sincerely, arm around BamBam who somehow fell asleep after a few words from Mark; was this another side of his magic?

“I´m sorry.” Jinyoung said to Jaebum, “And thank you - it all escalated so quickly and just spilled here; I just wanted them to take some fresh air but...”

“It´s fine, man, don´t worry.”

Jinyoung smiled. “Seriously, we didn´t know what to do. It never happens...” he turnd to Jackson. “And I guess you´re the guy Mark´s infatuated with. I knew it.” he got in the car. “We´ll have to talk about that. Good evening.”

“Goodbye!” Jaebum said and waved a little too cherfully despite what just went down.

“Well.” He said. “I guess hooligans don´t cry.”

Jackson didn´t understand what he meant by that.

-

“BamBam has always been a little impulsive.” Mark explained, rolling the joint on his leg, in Jackson´s and Jaebum´s shared car a little past eleven pm. “And Yugyeom gets fed up too, of course - so when his mother found his letters and beat the ever living shit out of him, he told them he was going to kill himself, and Yugyeom, well...”

Jackson nodded, not pretending like he understood, because he didn´t.

“How is he now?” 

“Staying with Yugyeom.” he tied put in the cigarette butt, keeping the weed together. “They´re both off age, anyways. His mom can´t do shit now - hey, turn the volume up.” 

It was a chill melody with a strong bass; Mark sung along to it whole heartedly, joint between his fingers and acting it out.

It amazed Jackson, really, how the boy could trap him in like that by doing something so simple and typical; if any other person did it, he might´ve just been amused, with Mark it felt like a privilege.

He looked so beautiful.

He admired Mark - all his features under the glowing moon and stars; on the parking lot of the gasoline station in the middle of nowhere; old rock music playing, cars passing; worlds passing; none of them were less or more important than theirs.

Yet Mark, right now, was the only that mattered.

“That´s such a good song, Jesus.” he smiled wide and lit up the joint, took the first blunt. “And that´s such a good hit, damn, I´m  _good_.”

Inhale, exhale - the first time Jackson took weed was when he was fifteen years old and he coughed up both lungs. Or at least it felt like it; it wasn´t until Jaebum coerced him into smoking with him when he tried it again.

“They were probably screwing with you.” Mark concluded, puffing out little circles of smoke. “I would screw with you, too.” 

Another long blunt, swallowing the smoke.

“Hey, wanna kiss?”

Of course he did.

Kissing Mark made him think they were designed for one another; it was a backwards way of doing things - blowjobs first and kissing second, but nothing in their relationship was exactly conventional; every morning when Jackson woke up he had to confirm that Mark wasn´t just a dream, a self-indulgent escape of his boring life - yet there he was, passing the smoke through their mouths and then hungrily savoring his lips.

There was nothing cute about it - slow, sensual and intense maybe, but always a little animalistic, a little primitive, a little more about basic sexual instincts and a little less about thinking it through.

Jackson sucked on Mark´s lower lip and then Mark bit him hard, when the other dragged his lips over his jawline and to his neck, feeling his pulse, and Mark took another long drag of the blunt, moaning when Jackson sucked just right, grabbed him strong enough and dug his nails in his sides just the way he liked it. 

“Let me...” another bite. “Let me go down on you, baby.”

 _Baby._ He lingered on the _´a´_ , and it was the sexiest sound Jackson had ever heard in his entire, boring, monochrome life.

So Mark´s head was between his thighs again;  Jackson spread with one leg over the seat and the other on the floor, rock music channel still playing in the background - Mark looked so beautiful, hands on his member and licking the tip; hummed to the song and then deepthroated it; Jackson moaned, loud.

“Pull my hair.” Mark said, coming up for some air.

So he did, threw his own head back and inhaled the smoke - fuck it, he thought, every person on the planet should feel this right at least _once_ in their lives.

When he switched hands to hold the joint the heat burnt Marks neck again; he loved it.

“Ah shit, Jackson, you´re so hot.” 

“You t-too...” short breaths. Mark didn´t let him finish.

“Wait, pass me the blunt.” And while Jackson put it in his mouth, appreciating the sensual moments, Mark worked his jeans to his knees, knocked Jacksons head against he window and, without much preparation at all, he settled on top  of him; like teenagers with most of their clothes still on, dirty and messy, exchanging the smoke with kisses.

Moans and mewls, grunts and the sound of skin against skin; bites and aggressive, almost violent ass-grabbing as Mark swore ugly profanities in Jackson´s ear, silence fell on the world at midnight - even the radio show ended, and they could hear was each others breaths.

They panted against each-other, heart beating fast, not all that hasty in picking their breath back up to go back to the real world.

“I-if I can sh-share my silences...” Mark whispered, Jackson still inside him, his head still leaning on his shoulder, the fire of the blunt still burning his back as if Jackson was doing it on purpose. “then I´m probably in love, fuck, Jackson, I think I´m in love.”

For some reason, Jackson held him tighter.


	2. Suck.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I lied, I was totally going to have this be a one-shot, a two-shot at most, but the final part would feel too weird in this chapter, so I´m dividing it. Haven´t proofread yet. Are you liking it so far? Thank you for reading.

_"It was the backwards way of doing things, blowjobs before kissing, menthol strips before cigarettes and almost breaking up before becoming boyfriends."_

 

“When I was in highschool,” he started. “I thought the world was going to end right after it.” 

Unsure of where this was coming from or whether or not he wanted him to answer, Jackson simply nodded, acknowledging his words; obsessed with the low tone of Marks voice, wanting him to keep talking forever and ever as it blended with the sound of rain drops ticking, dropping on the window glass, leaving their long marks on it.

“But then I actually graduated, and life went on, and I chose history on a whim, and I wasn´t even that depressed about it.”

“You liked school?”

“No. God, no.” Mark said. “It was a routine. People telling you what to do is easier than deciding on your own. That way we always have someone else to blame. It´s confusing.”

With that said, after taking the final drag of his cigarette and taunting cancer some more, he turned his body around and Jackson knew he was going to kiss him.

It was a backwards experience, just like the blowjobs before kisses and this time nicotine before menthol strips - because Mark took the chewing gum before he decided he wanted, needed, _craved_ for another nicotine rush.

Jackson didn´t mind the taste.

He rather liked it, actually.

They kissed for ten minutes that simultaneously felt like an eternity and not nearly enough, lips-locking and spit-exchanging, grabby-hands becoming just a little needier than before, sitting down on the floor leaning on the wall - it was Jacksons workspace and he didn´t care, not when Mark was there, feeling juvenile and boyish and lovesick like song lyrics; unfortunately the best things don´t last forever, and the greenish door of the gasoline station was opened.

Jinyoung cleared his throat and Jackson felt like he just got caught by his parents. Or Marks parents. It was Jinyoung, though, and he didn´t know which was worse.

“Do you mind?”

Mark clearly didn´t, because he groaned and continued kissing - it was only because of Jackson pushing him off his chest and Mark complaining under his breath when he spoke.

“Jeez, Jinyoung, don´t you have evening class?”

“Got cancelled.”

Mark murmured something along the lines of _“not my problem”_ before Jackson secretly hoped the floor would crack completely and swallow him up in a pit of panic, it was only then when he noticed Yugyeom was standing right next to him.

“Uh, can I help you?” He asked, feeling just a bit empathic, and Yugyeom shook his head.

“Yeah you can.”

So Jinyoung yanked him up in one go holding his wrists - Jackson would´ve been offended if he weren´t slightly mortified - and with minimal effort and some more complaints from Mark who got his mouth stuffed with another cigarette from Yugyeom, Jackson was yanked out of the gasoline station, his work place, and into the rain, under the dark clouds.

He wasn´t sure why. He wasn´t about to ask.

“Alright.” back on the wall. Back on the same wall Mark sucked his dick on. Ah, good memories. “How did you do it?”

 _How did you do it._ Jackson expected a punch, a hit, some yelling, but he was calm, almost friendly. It made him all the more nervous.

“Excuse me?” He blinked. Once. Twice.

“Mark.” Jinyoung said. “Why is he so in love with you? What did you do? What do you have?” He touched his face, inspected his hair, poked his chest. “I mean, you look alright. But you´re short. And have more eyebags than eyes. I guess you have a nice tan, though.”

Jackson did not know what to say.

“So what is it?”

“What are you eve-”

Then Jinyoung put his right foot on the wall, partially blocking Jackson to lit up a cigarette. He was convinced that they could pay his and Jaebums entire college tuition with the money they spent on them.

“Do you like him?” 

This was ridiculous. Jackson thought.

“Of course I do.” Was his answer.

Jinyoung analized his face, his expressions, looking for any signal of him lying or bullshitting while taking a drag; it looked stupid to Jackson because they were in the rain and surely his cigarette would go out soon. 

And it did. Jinyoung threw it on the floor.

“Hm.” Hm. “Did you fuck or…?”

“ _What the hell._ ”

“I´m serious. He´s only had one boyfriend before. Which is why I think it´s weird he´s so infatuated with you, because his ex is, like, your total opposite.”

“In what way?”

Jinyoung sighed. “He was an ass. You´re nice. He´s in jail. You´re working for a future.”

“He told me you´re studying in an Ivy League.”

“Yeah.” He rubbed his neck. “But that´s what´s up - you don´t happen to snort cocaine, do you?”

“His ex did?”

Jinyoung eyed him for a bit, and Jackson knew he was meddling in business he should´t have gotten involved in. Whatever history Mark had with this boy sounded messy and sad, something bad enough for Jinyoung to check on his potentials just in case.

Jinyoung frowned. “Wait, how much did Mark tell you about him?”

And then Yugyeom and Mark walked out, leaving the actual gasoline station unattended. It didn´t really matter.

“Don´t beat him up yet.” Mark said. “Don´t be too intimidated, they just wanted to thank you and Jaebum for the other day.“

“Oh.” Jackson said, looking at him from tip to toe as if he expected something about him to change after hearing about his boyfriend. Nothing changed, however, and Jackson felt a little lost.

“Where _is_ he?” Jinyoung asked.

“Too bad. He has evening classes and was pretty stoked about finally getting to work with sculptures.”

Mark laughed loud and Jinyoung frowned, the thought of Jaebum, ever so aggressive but collected Jaebum working with such a fine art clearly amusing them. Jackson snorted, ironic, he thought, coming from people who studying in Ivy Leagues but couldn´t afford a can of beer.

-

“You fucked up.” Jaebum offered that night after Jackson told him everything. “You fucked up. You shouldn´t meddle. Now that you know something about him he didn´t tell you life is gonna find a way to fuck you over with it.”

And then,grunting and throwing his textbook on the floor,  he fell asleep, and Jackson knew he was right.

- 

Days passed and life still hadn´t fucked him over. 

Rather, the leather club somehow, for some reason, started showing up uninvited and really Jackson shouldn´t have been amused  since it was a gas station after all, but he totally _was_ because they never ended up buying anything. Just opening packets and bags and ended up sitting on the floor talking and smoking or talking and drinking or sometimes just talking.

On the eight day of this unlikely friendship, they were stupid high and swooning from left right and from back to front in a rhythm that only they could hear and feel - Jackson did not think for one moment that this was the responsible thing to do, but neither did he spend any more than two seconds thinking about the consequences to really care - the smoke went from his mouth  to his throat straight to his lungs and Jackson could swear he could feel it all the way down to his toes and tips of his fingers.

Jinyoung recognized good kush and he knew how to spread it right, without a grinder but loosely on his thighs, licking the paper wet to keep it all together - when Jaebum asked how he learned where to get quality, Mark simply wiggled his eyebrows mysteriously and only Jackson knew he was just fucking with Jaebum.

Mark and Jinyoung were good kids. Always late on rent but always pay it anyway. Eat their dessert before dinner and that´s just because pancakes are cheaper than a healthy meal. 

They were good kids.

“There shouldn´t be any judgment - we live in a country where students are shoved in a corner for their education, and drug trafficking is just a spike in the giant money printing robot of the United States.” Jaebum claimed after about six spiffs, fist in the air and inhaling for the seventh. “Long live _fucking_ America.”

“Long live fucking America.” 

With that said and lazy cheers aside, Jinyoung and Mark stood up - sweaters pulled up and the hoodie over their heads, the gasoline station speakers hijacked by their phones to play music that felt like a whole other drug on its own, they danced and played around.

At some point between the comfortable silence and lazy conversations, Mark was sat on Jacksons lap, on the floor like the rest of them, and eating chips they shouldn´t have been eating - while passing the smoke from mouth to mouth and Jackson could go on his knees and swear that the proximity got him hooked and fucked up, higher than he had ever felt before.

It was a different high, though, a high that doesn´t just go to your lungs, but an intoxicated and poisonous high that bites in your organs and won´t let go. Slipping in his conscious, then fucking with his unconscious.

That venon was the same poison that had him groping Marks hips on the spot, digging his nails in his skin and he could´ve broken it and made him bleed and neither of them would´ve cared about it - the dirty tiles of the dirty gasoline station felt so pretty when Mark was there, Jackson thought, leaving butterfly kisses on the back of the other boys neck, making sure to remember his scent and the shades of his blonde hair, the beauty marks he could see and the warmth of his skin.

“Can we go to the car?” Jackson whispered, lips on Marks studded ear.

“Mhmm.” 

Eyes close and head rolling on Jacksons shoulder, Jackson kissed his neck one more time before standing up - feeling like the world was fictitious and like the four of them were the only people standing on the planet - like everything was made out of plastic. Like he was a lot lighter than he thought he was, and like it was only thanks to Marks touch that he had his feet on the ground.

Finally, with Mark swinging around and leaning on Jackson, they made it to the car and it was only when they locked the doors when the others realized they were even gone in the first place; distracted by their own highs and released of worries.

Jackson kissed him, hungrily, quenched, thirsty, needy, Mark was not a choice, but a necessity, and his touch was was both a luxury and a vitality - like he´d die without it, but like he was lucky and god damn _blessed_ to have it. 

So he touched him like a treasure, hands roaming softly, _just_ touched him in case he might break apart and like he was made out of the most precious porcelain, a porceilain doll tasting of weed and it was okay because so did Jackson. 

A good ten minutes of lips-locking chest-touching hair-grabbing and lots of loving had Mark on his knees again, a familiar position, just lazier, messier, sleepier, it could barely be considered consent, Jackson was far too gone to think about it twice. 

He was rougher than usual when it came to his arousal that was somehow less intimate than their short kisses and long touches were , Mark´s eyes closed and sucking the tip, then further down to finally let it hit his throat - he coughed and choked and teared-up, it was ugly, Jackson loved it. 

“You´re so good to me.” He finally said, hands in Marks hair who was licking his fingers from the bit of release he didn´t manage to swallow up immediately. “You´re so good to me.” He repeated.

Mark barely listened, the first time feeling distant, the second like a mantra that put him to sleep.

-

Two months and nothing in their relationship had been set in stone - Jackson didn´t want to, didn´t _dare_ to take the first step, a little too scared of the prospect of a reaction that´d end with his heart breaking and him dying because of it.

It was in the middle of the first week of the third month when something changed, a quiet, soundless shift that felt as vulnerable like a thread, like a violin chord or a bottle of alcohol standing at the edge of a table.

“It´s my brothers graduation next week.”

They were in the car again, this time riding home and Jackson would drop him off like he usually would when Jaebum wasn´t there to complain about it.

“Oh. Congratulations. Didn´t know you had a brother.”

“I do.” Jackson said. “We don´t talk much though.”

“You don´t get along?” Mark asked, curiously examining Jacksons face through his bangs, one leg propped up on the chair.

Jackson thought about it. 

“Nah, let´s just say we have a different mentality on a lot of things - he´s graduating in law. Star football player. Lives with his girlfriend of five years. Studied on a scholarship.”

“Jealous?” 

Mark was teasing him again; Jackson made a mental note to remember this when he had the other bent over the counter and fucking him hard from behind. He briefly wondered if he did it for that in the first place.

“Not at all, baby, his life is too plastic.”

“You´re just talking shit. If you were him you´d be gloating about your success twenty-four seven. He doesn´t know you´re into guys, does he?” 

Never having a coming out phase didn´t mean the people who weren´t close in his life knew about it, though, and much less did it mean he was completely comfortable with them knowing that about him - it left him just a bit more vulnerable than before; he couldn´t care less about strangers, but he cared about his brother, cared about their differences.

“No.” Somehow, suddenly he felt caught. “He doesn´t.”

Mark sighed out loud as if he already knew and closed his eyes, listening to the engines and the cars rushing them by for a good few seconds before he opened his mouth again - he wondered what those people did, at that moment, how different their days were compared to their own,  and yet they were all driving on the same highway, at the same time - it was a beautiful coincidence.

“Different lives for different people, baby.” He said. “I´m sure he´s somewhat jealous of your freedom, too.”

Jackson didn´t believe him for one second.

“Your brother will never know the meaning of these kind of conversations, or what it´s like to see two people beat the shit out of each other out of frustrated love - he´ll never hear the conversations you´ve heard, and he won´t ever get that moment of rolling a joint in a car after fucking.”

And that´s where Mark fell asleep, shortly after saying something along the lines of _yes-we´ll-come-with-you-to-his-graduation_ , frankly, Jackson was barely even listening.

For some reason, he wanted to cry.

-

“Tell Jesus I´ve stepped on university grounds.” BamBam shouted when he stepped on the grass, the other six stomping right behind him. “Because he sure won´t believe it when I tell him.”

“You won´t be meeting him anyway boy, prepare your speech for the gates of Hell instead.” 

Jinyoung said, and everyone around them looked at them weird - they looked like a hot mess - suits and disheveled ties, cans of beer despite it being the ceremony and cigarette clouds surrounding them.

Jaebum put his arm around Jackson, stomping the cigarette on the floor. 

“Isn´t it funny how this turned out?” 

Jackson nodded.

“We look like we walked straight out of a gangster movie, what will your brother say?”

“Fuck damn it, aren´t we like, fifteen minutes early, why is this place full?” Jinyoung complained.

The ceremony was held on the football field, smack in the center on the grass and the massive lights were already on, the stage decorated, parents holding hands, girls in cocktail dresses and guys in suits. Rather, they weren´t girls or boys anymore, but men and women, seated next to it, waiting. 

“Which one is your brother?” Jinyoung asked after they manhandled their way to the center, accidentally letting the ash of their cigarettes fall on other peoples expensive clothes.

The question was left unanswered, as the boy stood up and went on the stage. His brother looked as good and stereotypical as you´d expect a varsity honour sportsman to look like, with Jackson surrounded by leather and smoke you wouldn´t think they were related, reminiscent of the story of the ugly duckling - thought probably a lot less dramatic than that - the boys watched his every movement, like they were judging him with every word he spoke. Mark leaned in on Jackson.

“Aren´t your parents here?"

Jackson nodded. “Probably.”

“Who´s his girl?” Jinyoung asked Jaebum.

“The girlie with the yellow dress smiling like a creep? that´s her.”

“Friends?”

“She treats Jackson and I like air.”

“ _…And these four years spent in this school together will be the base of our future. Everyone, thank you_.”

That´s how it was, and after about ninety people going on stage and smiling at the various cameras, the night fell and despite Jaebum suggesting they spike the punch juice for some entertainment they still stayed, feeling eerily out of place but alright with it because it was for Jackson. Just when they started rating the dresses and suits the people going up on stage were wearing and Jackson almost fell asleep on his feet, Marks cologne kept him awake and finally, _finally_ , the crowd moved and the ceremony ended and bad pop music started playing.

“Thank God. I´m gonna greet them. Let´s go drinking after.”

“Sounds good.” BamBam said.

They walked towards his family, who lingered next to the stage waiting for the eldest to come down from talking to the various teachers, finally coming down from his university high, Jackson waved at him.

“Congrats, bro.” 

“Eh, not a big deal.” He shrugged. Looked over his shoulder and eyed over the others. “Are these your friends?” 

“Yup.”

He laughed. “Oh, you´re still a little kid, huh?” 

Jackson didn´t understand what he meant by that, but with his hair ruffled and a glass of champagne pressed in his hand he walked past him, shoulders knocking and his girlfriend talking to his parents.

“Are you guthencoming to the party later on or…?”  He asked, all smiles.

“We´re good. Thanks for the invite, though.” 

“Jackson.” His mother said. “You have to have dinner with us, for your brother.” 

He looked at his brother, and truthfully he didn´t look like he was dying to have Jackson around the dinner table with him - looking at the picture of his parents, their successful son and his girlfriend, he simply couldn´t paint himself in it.

So he just removed himself and drew on a whole other canvas instead, Mark patting his butt and Jaebum leaning on his shoulders. It´s okay. It´s alright.

His family was just fine like that. His brother was in the spotlight and if he did come with them he´d just waste space and money eating before excusing himself off the table before suffocating. He didn´t want that. Didn´t want to ruin their night. It wasn´t out of spite, or dislike of his family, he just didn´t fit in.

“Sorry, I´ve been feeling sick all day.”

She nodded. That was easy. 

They hugged and when it was his mothers turn, she whispered in his ear and asked if Mark is his boyfriend, reluctant and a little scared his brother or father could hear her, he nodded in panic. So she smiled and held his cheeks.

“He helped us with directions when we came here and was talking really good about you. I didn´t tell you, alright?”

Alright.

With a cold hug from his brother and barely two kisses on the cheeks from his brothers girlfriend, his family left and his friends yawned loudly, they became small toys in the distance, and then they were almost the last people staying behind.

“Can we cut the sentimental bullshit and get to the drinking?” Jaebum pondered, leaning on Jinyoung. 

But Jackson could only stare at Mark, who was looking at the stars.

Catching him in the act, he raised his eyebrows as if to ask what his problem was, a small smile on his lips, eyebrows raised.

So Jackson just shook his head.

“Mark, I think I love you.” 

Before even registering his words, Jinyoung sighed out loud again.

“Oh _come on_ you lovebirds, _let´s go_.”

-

Jinyoung invited them to his house. And despite the car only having five seats, the seven boys pressed up and forced themselves in it regardless. In Jinyoungs words, the suit was uncomfortable and his balls were about to implode from the pressure. 

Which is why, thirty minutes filled with music and BamBam and Yugyeom sprawled across the elders legs, hoping the police wouldn´t stop them and, if they did, prepared to speed on the highway and escape them, thirty minutes later they found themselves in his house.

All with their belts unbuckled and ties loose. Rum and coke in their hands, television on despite no one actually watching it.

“Your brother seems a little stuck up.” Youngjae said, and shrugged as if he didn´t.

“He´s not stuck up. He just doesn´t get lives lived different to his own.” Jackson said.

“Stuck up.” Jinyoung concluded.

Jaebum looked at him with sympathy, and Jackson sighed, taking a gulp of his drink .

“Just different.” 

“ _Stuck up._ ” 

He didn´t see the point in continuing this discussion, figuring Jinyoung just had a kick out of provoking him. 

The night passed, smothering and smudged between conversations and random banter, rum with coke and Jinyoung resting his head on Jaebums lap - they talked about relationships, and then about videogames, somewhere between the two about BamBam and Yugyeom.

BamBam didn´t like his situation at home, his mother was barely ever present and he didn´t have any academic goals in his life - they were more like two strangers under one roof, and even basic things like schoolbooks and clothes felt like asking an arm or a leg. 

So he never had much in life, always working with sheets and his brothers hand-me-downs; everything he did or said seemed like a bother, so he did and said those things outside of the house instead - with strangers that became friends, and strangers that ended up hurting him more than any physical pain could hope to achieve.

He met Yugyeom, though,

so he guessed that it was worth it, in the end.

In a spurt of grief and regret, his mother would sometimes be a mother, be nice and ask how his day went; BamBam, already old enough to know parents aren´t heroes, would rather she stayed neglectful, at least that way he could cross her off as borderline abusive, and that was easy.

Unfortunately she found his notebook, a notebook he stopped writing in since two years ago, a notebook with all his angst an death wishes he´d never ever confess to anyone but his closest friends.

“I live with Yugyeom now.” BamBam said, eyes closed and yawning. “I was sneaky about it, but when she saw me stuff my things in a bag and leaving the keys behind she just asked me where I was going, and I told her I was moving out, and she just nodded.”

“Stop talking now, Bam.” Yugyeom said.

And he stopped talking. It seemed everyone had a magic spell up their sleeves in this group.

Everyone listened carefully, although they all knew the story and just filled Jaebum and Jackson in on the conclusion. He was sure BamBam fell asleep after it, though, and for a brief second he wondered if BamBam and Yugyeom were anything more than friends. He carefully put the thought in a corner of his memory to think about it later, moved it away quickly when Mark started playing with his fingers.

The room was asleep. A comfortable melancholy fused with the after midnight hours and a bit of liquor.

So Jackson and Mark were kissing again, missing eachothers every fiber again, hoping they´d never ever have to let go again - soft kisses and curious touching, it was when Mark leaned in and whispered in his ear when this pattern changed.

“Want to go to my house?”

Short phrase with turned Jackson on more than he´d ever want to admit - he looked at Mark, in his eyes and down to his lips, to their intertwined fingers and then his lips again.

Yes, yes he wanted, needed, _had_ to go to his house.

So after barely saying their goodbyes and making sure everyone was propped up nice and comfortable surrounded by blankets and cushions on the couch - even attempted to clean the table but didn´t do a good job of it over the sheer impatience they were feeling, they were in the car - Jinyoungs car, specifically - and driving to Marks little flat with a room and and a small kitchen in the living room; leather couch and a TV he never used, just a few dirty dishes and a hypnotizing ticking of the clock on the wall.

Two a.m. It was two a.m on a Friday. Jackson made a mental note to remember this.

“I´ve always wanted to fuck someone in a suit.” Mark said when he took his shoes off, his hands on Jackoson chest. “And you look so sexy, I could die.”

“Don´t die yet.”

“Not…yet.”

Loose tie suddenly choking him, kisses hard and erotic, groins rubbing against each other and if Jackson could blend with the wall, he probably would have. Finally his tie was on he grounds, and Mark couldn´t help but think he looked like a beautiful CEO of a multi-billionaire company.

It was just Jackson, though, little retail worker unsure of anything in his life. 

On his knees, in front of the bed, trousers down to his thighs, the darkness robbing him off his sight but appreciating the touching Mark was doing, with his hands, then with his lips, and his nails scratching his legs. 

Then he stood up, and pushed Jackson on the bed, crawling over him and sitting on his lap - pants off and taking his tie to put it around Jacksons wrist.

“What is this?” 

“My dream come true.” Was his answer.

It was that simple, preparing himself and moaning, Jackson with his hands behind his back and bucking his hips up for just a bit of friction - jacket off, trousers on the ground but with both their blouses on both their bodies, they fucked and Jackson groaned loud.

“Fuck, Mark, you´re s-“

But then he kissed him, and then he came, inside him, panting, saliva probably on his chin, wrists bruised from the tie and Mark completely spent on his chest - he could count the rate of his heartbeat, faster than usual, could appreciate the warmth of his skin, he did. 

Falling into silence once again, Jackson was so blissed out he couldn´t form a coherent thought, so after putting his wrists up and smiling gently at Mark, he untied them with love and care, just to fall on his back again, and then they slept, in each others arms, legs around legs, unsure of the time, or place.

It didn´t really matter, anyway.

-

Jackson has never been in Marks apartment, and last night he didn´t really have time to look around - apart from the clock and the red refrigerator, this was his first peek in Marks day-to-day. His routine. His world.

The bedroom was small, a couple bed and a desk with a lot of books scattered around it - leather jacket hanging around the chair and a closet that had clothes peeking out of it. The floor was clear, though, except for two pairs of DocMarten boots and a bottle of lube.

It was, strangely, pretty normal.

Strange because Mark used to feel ethereal, strange because it was nothing he had never seen before.

Except for two, no, three things; the clock which never stopped ticking, the scent of the coco perfume Mark used and, of course, Mark himself. It was enough to change a mundane thing to something interesting. It was enough to impress Jackson.

“A photo lasts longer, you know.” Jackson said, noticing the shift of Marks legs under the cover and his presence poking behind him. 

“I take pictures with my brain, baby, folder name - Jackson Wangs sexy back muscles. Photo name, the morning after. What time is it?”

"Eleven A.M, pretty early, huh?” 

“Ah, enough time to sleep for another five hours.” 

Jackson laughed.

“Say, have yo-” he wanted to ask Mark, casually, what exactly they were for certanitys sake, wanted to ask him for his ex boyfriend, wanted to ask him all about his life, but he didn´t. They were in a good place right now - in bed with no embarrassment or worries on their minds, it was good. An island or a holiday found in a small apartment. He didn´t want to play with life. Didn´t dare to rebel.

“What?”

“Nevermind.”

Mark looked at him amused, and then he sat straight just like Jackson and hugged him from behind. “Kiss me.”

“Ew, morning breath.”

But he kissed him anyway; and they spent the day in bed, taking out Marks lap-top and watching series, kissing and fucking around all day until Jaebum and Jinyoung knocked on his door at six p.m. Mark asked Jackson if they could just ignore them, but Jaebum threatening Jackson with his life convinced him to stand up and open the door. 

He couldn´t risk it.

-

Of course. Not everything could go right for too long - life had a way of getting you comfortable and tossing you around right after you´ve settled in. It started with mid-terms, just plain old mid-terms and crunching everything last minute, so one all-nigther became two, and by the third Jackson was a barely living being who lived off of drank energy drinks and re-read all of his notes at work.

After failing two exams, but passing the rest, Jaebum continued to kick him down on the ground.

“So like, are you and Mark officially a thing yet?”

Jackson wanted to spit out his coffee, but contained himself.

“Uh…not really?”

“Hmm.” Jaebum hummed. Unfazed. “You´re practically living at his place, is all.”

“That´s not true.” 

“It is though. Don´t feel bad, I understand but you might want to talk to him, just in case.”

And it all went downhill from there. Or more like downhill a week from there - five months passed since that day at the gasoline station, and Jackson swore he was going to talk, but everytime he opened his mouth it seemed to be to kiss Mark. Again. And Again. And again.

They fucked like bunnies and it was starting to get worrying. Jackson didn´t say that, Jinyoung did.

But neither of them could exactly find the words they were looking for, so the sex became an outlet of oppressed feelings, and the loving became more aggressive.

Jackson figured it was human nature, and he couldn´t pin-point when exactly their relationship got cruder, ruder, faster, harder. It just happened. Twisted, somewhere down the line. They were fine, Jackson was sure, they were fine.

Even when Mark gasped for air and started crying when Jackson held his throat a bit too hard, a bit too long, they were _fine._

-

The eery silence was somehow louder than any noise they´ve ever heard, and Mark clutched his jacket in hopes he´d feel just a bit warmer in the gasoline station that was normally the perfect temperature. This time it was cold. Extremely cold.

He stood next to the Haribo candy bags and looked at the floor, Jackson was at the counter, reading, sitting down.

Neither of them knew what exactly they hoped for to happen, or what they wanted the other to say, but they really, really wanted it, apparently, since they´ve stayed quiet for a good thirty minutes. No touching, no talking, barely looking at each other, yet perfectly aware of them being there.

They couldn´t not feel it, after all. It was like a cable of electricity gone mad.

Mark started counting the number of tiles on the floor for the sake of his own sanity, and by the time he got to eighty-nine, he could hear a faint sound coming from the counter. It wasn´t his imagination, either.

“I´m sorry.” 

It was a low-quality band-aid, but damn it, it worked anyway; unsure if he was apologizing for the marks around his neck, for the time he pushed him around or for something else entirely, Mark accepted it. 

So he kissed him. And once again, the words they were supposed to say got drown in pleasure instead.

- 

Jackson stayed true to his words, so they both concluded the spurts of aggressiveness came from the workload and stress from school; it wasn´t an excuse, not in the least, Jinyoung would´ve told him if Mark hadn´t fooled him claiming the fading bruises around his neck were from himself; It wasn´t like Jinyoung not to notice the little things, much less was it like him to keep quiet when his friend, his bestfriend, was hurting. 

But he did, and Mark knew something was on his mind. 

They shared everything together, so he expected him to tell him, at some point; he wasn´t worried, didn´t want to rush him. 

The next time the whole group got together was a after finals, a month after his brothers graduation, a month before they were supposed to pass the grade.

They were speaking in silhouettes - Jackson and Mark sat together on Jinyoungs couch obediently, and then Mark got yanked off the couch and into the kitchen - Jaebum tried to distract Jackson, and BamBam spoke loudly to cover up any sound; Yugyeom and Youngjae´s serious expression was a dead giveaway, though, and even Jackson could make out the scene from behind the kitchen door; their silhouettes, Jinyoung was talking, and Mark was looking at the floor - they shouted a lot and then Mark ran straight for the door.

Of course, Jackson followed him as quick as he could, and no one did their best to stop him. 

“Mark!” 

He kept stomping through the hallways of the apartment, until he reached the elevator and pressed hit various times as if it would speed up the whole rotation - it didn´t speed up anything apart from his heart rate, though, and the nerves reaching their all time high and knocked him to his knees, panting and crying dry tears.

“Mark…”

The elevator opened, and Mark threw himself in the corner - Jackson sat on the floor as well, holding him tight, his face against his chest, stroking his hair, holding his hand.

“He killed himself.” Mark said. “You know, don´t you?” 

His words were calm, dangerously calm, Jackson couldn´t see his expression, after all. But he knew, of course he knew, 

“Your ex…”

Mark nodded. “Overdosed _in jail._ ”

They stayed quiet until they reached the bottom floor - Mark calmed down a bit, and Jackson´s shirt was wet with snot and tears. They didn´t stand up, though, and the door opened and closed as they were still sat on the floor, hugging, in the dirty corner.

“Fuck, I´m sorry. He was a good friend of ours and it just hit…”

The others knew, but they told him last for the obvious reasons; Jackson, for the first time, said what came to his mind on the spot - he asked Mark if he still loved his ex.

“No.” He rolled off Jacksons chest and hit his head with the wall, covered his eyes with his sleeve, his other hand holding Jackson. “No. But it´s…it´s tough…shit, I´m not going to be able to sleep for so long…”

Jackson couldn´t pretend like he understood - suddenly he felt the initial difference and distance again; the same they first met each other with; misplaced and fucked up jealously, he knew Mark couldn´t sleep alone for at least a while, he knew the boys upstairs were probably having as much of a hard time as he was, he knew he had nothing to do with this, and he accepted the fact he knew nothing about how their, how Mark´s life was with the other boy.

Selfish. Jackson was completely selfish the next time he opened his mouth, stepped on his feet and helped Mark up. 

“Mark…will you go out with me?” 

It was the backwards way of doing things, blowjobs before kissing, menthol strips before cigarettes and almost breaking up before becoming boyfriends.

They were used to it by now, so Mark said yes.


	3. Swallow.

BamBam was gone.

It was the shortest, briefest, simplest way to word it, but left too many unanswered questions and crumbs of confusion for anyone to actually accept it, zip it up, chew it down and calmly move on with their lives.

BamBam, recently kicked out of his house and moved into his _actual_ , welcoming home with his own trash and socks to mark the place with Yugyeom, was gone. Ironically, the deliverer of bad news and worse luck _was_ the latter, with a letter and bouquet of out-of-place roses that seemed to be selected not by its beauty, but by the number of thorns on them - the more the better -  and stung Yugyeom, making him bleed like he had never ever bled before.

It was a six p.m on a Friday.

Six p.m on a Friday. Uncomforting and gloomy, yet there was no rain or gray clouds to colour in the picture - it was painted with yellows instead from the sun, different shades of brown from the dessert-like landscape palette they became familiar with. A sight you´d expect to say in dooms day films or Western movies with aliens in them. 

Though, the only aliens around on a six p.m Friday afternoon, in a gasoline station that served more as the birthplace for memories than for filling up cars, were the boys themselves. 

“He left.” He said. “BamBam, he _left_.”

The group looked up at him, urging, wanting, _begging_ him to continue without opening their mouths, to explain, to bring some of the piercing sunshine outside of the station, up in the sky inside to light up the storm of their upcoming confusion.

That´s when he gave them the letter, a letter with some bloodstains on it from when Yugyeom held the roses too tight and read the paper too slow before noticing the itching, stabbing pain in his hands. 

The letter said a whole lot of nothing, yet a whole lot for Yugyeom with a big  _“thank you all”_ at the end of it, written with red marker and a heart. The letter ended with with no address or promises,

It ended, just like that.

With a dot and no more space left for words.

It came to its natural end.

“I called him - he´s in Thailand. With his grandmother.” 

They clicked their tongues just to make some noise, and Jackson felt like his breathing was a burdening sound in the silence they fell in - everyone looked at the ground, at their shoes, at the dirty tiles, at their hands, the corners of the room suddenly becoming the most interesting thing they´ve ever been blessed to see.

“ _Oh._ ” Jinyoung said.

And although nobody mentioned it, they knew it was the beginning of something much bigger than that; it was just BamBam who took it upon himself to start the chain. 

After that, Yugyeom stopped going to the gasoline station.

-

“Jackson, there´s a surprise visitor for you here and it´s _not_ the landlord to kick your homosexual ass.” Jaebum announced, and Jackson immediately looked up from his schoolbooks, _Intro to Economy II_ or something, to see Mark standing against the doorframe of the room.

He smiled, and Jackson wondered how he got so lucky.

“Landlord…?”

“He´s not about the gay lifestyle and is constantly up Jacksons throat about who he brings to the apartment - Jesus, close your mouth you look _stupid_.” 

He couldn´t help it, he was a victim to Marks imperfect perfection and the beauty that had so many flaws he was secretly thankful for. Red sweater that was too big for his own good, sleeves hanging way over his hands than must´ve been comfortable, skinny jeans, a mouthful of cheesy chips leaving crumbs on around his mouth and fingers and God damnit, he _shouldn´t_ have looked so attractive, but he so _did._

“Mark…”

Mark shut the door. 

That day, they made-out as if to kiss out the frustration over their friend away, how sad and, though they would never outright admit it, how fucked over they felt by his sudden goodbye told in ink rather than in words; the completely out-of-the-blue note he left on; they just kissed, kissed a lot, and rather than fuck it out and call it a day, they spoke.

About BamBam. About growing up. About life itself.

“Everything is changing as the Spring comes, baby.” Mark had said, his legs sprawled over Jacksons, staring at the ceiling. 

Final exams and people preparing for the next step in their lives, level-up and move on. Jackson was never good at growing up, never good at dealing with changes; he was scared of the future, and Mark hugged him tight and promised him he´ll be with him.

For that night, those words were enough, and it was only around ten p.m when Mark went back to his shared apartment, humming with his clothes straightened out rather than crinkled up.

He opened the door slowly, softly, in case Jinyoung was with a friend or making important calls; something he did a lot of nowadays, mostly with a collected tone of voice that belonged to an adult, to an actual adult they were expected to become. Jinyoung was extremely good at playing the part.

Expecting him on the phone, Mark, however, found him sitting by the kitchen table. The refrigerator buzzing, so annoying yet they got used to it - the flickering, small while light making everything seem brighter, the familiar smell of their home,

Of nicotine and fresh-baked cakes.

Jinyoung was sitting by the kitchen table, smoking, looking out the window that led to a small space where they´d hang their laundry and smoke weed without being too suspicious - he could hear the neighbors bustling about with guitars and laughter on the second floor, a dog barking on the first, he was sitting by himself with a can of beer, though, on the third.

“Hey.” Mark said.

And Jinyoung could barely return his smile - he tapped on the table nudging Mark to sit down in front of him; Mark, although not religious, never _had_ been religious, prayed on the spot hoping it was the typical banter. The typical rejection, the typical story of a cute girl leaving him hanging. Hopefully it was something selfish like that.

“What´s up?”

“The ceiling.” Jinyoung tried, and Mark noticed he was still wearing the clothes he left with - leather jacket and boots, white shirt and ripped jeans. He gulped. Then coughed. Then sat down.

“Alright…”

“I- I´ll get straight to the point.” He pressed the cigarette down. “Mark? Are you listening? Please look at me.”

He did.

“A company noticed me during our final project…I´m moving to California. Silicon Valley, to be exact. This is hu- Oh my God, Mark?” 

Honestly, Mark had only gotten out of breath a handful of times in his life before - one was when his mother left for the airport when he was six years old, and he was convinced he´d never see her again, but Jinyoung explained it was just a business trip, the second was when he failed his middleschool entrance exams, and ended up in the worst school in the district, and it was Jinyoung who tutored him, the third was when he aced the retakes, and Jinyoung celebrated by buying their first ever can of beer, the fourth was when he lost his virginity with a boy, and it was Jinyoung who yelled at him for getting drunk, the fifth was when Jackson choked him in bed, and for once, Jinyoung didn´t do anything about it, Mark secretly wondered if he even noticed.

And now, the sixth time Mark had ran out of breath, literally ran out of breath, no oxygen reaching his brains or his  limbs, feeling like the lingering smoke from the cigarette took over his every pore, it was because of Jinyoung. Because Jinyoung, _his_ Jinyoung, was going to leave him.

No red flags of warning and zero heads up.

The next time Mark opened his eyes, he was in his own bed between his own monochrome covers, and Jinyoung was right new to him. 

“Jin…?”

It´s okay, go to sleep.”

"But..."

"It´s okay, Mark. It´s _okay_."

-

“Shit, man, the flat is so empty without your stuff.” Jaebum commented, putting one of  the many boxes on the cart to carry downstairs.

“Half of it is shit he doesn´t even need.” Mark said.

“He´s not lying, I don´t like throwing things away - every item in this place carries a piece of my memory, y´know?”

“So you´re taking our memories with you, too?” 

Jackson sighed. Not appreciating how petty and childish Mark was being right before driving off to the airport. “Come on Mark, let´s go out to buy lunch.”

Mark complied far too easily, mumbled and murmured and muttered under his breath in what Jackson briefly thought was Latin and temporarily worried he was cursing Jinyoung while putting his jacket on and huffing and puffing before entering the elevator, not looking at Jinyoung once for the entire morning; when the door finally closed and Jaebum was juggling two boxes at once, sweat on his forehead and arms exposed, Jinyoung grabbed one to help him out.

“Thanks, Jaebum.” He said. “Uh, can I ask you something?”

“Uh-oh, sounds serious.”

He bit his tongue and huffed just like Mark was doing earlier, taking the boxes and setting them in their place.

“Well, can you keep an eye on Mark for me? He´s totally holding it against me - probably thinks everyone is going to leave him here.” 

Jaebum sighed, and before he could say anything, Jinyoung continued voicing his concerns still concentrated on the weight of his boxes; this one with a big obnoxious sign which said "fragile", and probably had his dead ancestors ashes in it, or something, even though he doesn´t even own a vase.

“But he´ll forgive me, eventually, he always does. Can you keep a secret? I´m sure you can. You´re like a sponge." He thought about it. "You´re a sponge person, you know that?”

Jaebum wasn´t sure how he felt about someone qualifying his as a _"sponge person,"_ but figured he´d stay quiet and let the other say the the words he wanted, needed, had to say out loud before it´d get locked up in there and drive him insane. So he just continued to set the box on the cart.

“We used to kiss and make-out and stuff - Oh, oh God, don´t misunderstand. Our bond was much deeper than that.”

“Ah, the infamous Tuan blowjobs.” He couldn´t help it.

“Right. I mean no. His ex was part of our group and once asked me if I have a thing for Mark - I don´t. But I know that falling in love with him would be too easy if I let myself. I just don´t... don´t want to.” Three boxes on the cart. He took the tape. Bit on it. “He´s perfect. Absolutely perfect. But I don´t think I can devote so much attention to one person regardless of who it is.”

Jaebum nodded.

“So even though we´d kiss from time to time and got each other off, we never ever talked about it. Mark is extremely good at avoiding things, y´see, and plays it off with smart comments instead. He thinks he´s slick, but he´s _so_ obvious.” 

Jaebum knew, of course he did.

“But anyway. His ex asked him out and Mark said yes. I don´t think Mark actually liked him at that point - I wasn´t even that bothered about it, really, and-” He paused, turned his back to Jaebum to grab another box but hesitated a bit. “And the kissing still continued behind his back. I hate his ex, so much. He beat the shit out of Mark once. And to this day he claims it was the only time he touched him but I don´t believe it. We fell out around last Summer, and Mark was meeting him separately more and more - until he got busted for cocaine possession. Which is why I was suspicious of Jackson. Mark has a terrible taste in me-”

He stopped, stopped walking and stopped talking and froze on the spot, just his eyes lingering over Jaebum, who was listening the entire time with scissors in his hand, cutting off the tape.

“Wait, wow, you really _are_ a sponge. No comments? No advice? No prying?”

“Nah.” He said. “Did the kissing continue with Jackson in the picture?” 

Jinyoung considered faking his answer. He didn´t - sucked in a breath, but his lip, suddenly feeling watched by a million cameras, thankfully he was never camera shy.

“Yeah.” He admitted. “Yeah it did.”

And with that, Jaebum smiled. Suddenly everything made a lot more sense, suddenly everything was seen in a while different light, the boisterous voice of Jackson which could be heard from the hallway was almost mocking and ironic.

“You know,” Jaebum said hastily. “I think your group is a lot more vulnerable than I thought it was.”

So Mark and Jackson walked in, bags in their hands and beaming about cheap chicken with fries. They made a good couple. Definitely, and Jaebum never once doubted they really do love each other. He looked at Jinyoung, and Jinyoung just continued cutting his tape.

"You into guys?"

"As heterosexual as the day, Jinyoung."

-

“Don´t kill yourself.” Jinyoung held his arms out, and it took Mark a good twenty seconds before sighing out loud and uncrossing his arms, looking at the ceiling and then hugging him - tighter than he had ever hugged  before, warmer than a blanket and more meaningful than a poem.

“You better fuckin´ bust your balls out there and make it.” He whispered.

And Jinyoung knew it was his way of saying he was proud of him.

“I´m sorry.” He said one more time.

“It´s okay.” snickers Mark swore were from his cold and not from tears, a good last huff of Jinyoungs scent - the familiar scent of leather mixed with copious alcohol that has dropped on it over time on their juvenile escapades, Mark wondered if he was going to take it off and wear a coat instead, someday.

Of course. Of course leather doesn´t last forever.

He just wished he could keep the jacket.

Just to remember the good old days.

-

That night Jackson stayed with Mark after he pleaded him to - that was also the night they had the most vocal and primitive sex they´d ever had before.

Moans, grunts and mewls - dirtytalking was a talent not even Jackson knew he had; he called him all sorts of things, degrading when he was making a show out of it, sweet when Mark seemed like he was on his breaking point.

Just like that, they played swings with each other and kept each other on their toes until Mark gripped the sheets and his breathing got so uneven it could be the track of an unpredictable love song, until Jackson dug his nails so hard into his flesh he thought he was going to feel it forever, until he groaned, loud, and they finished together.

Before Mark could properly pass out, he held on to Jackson like he was his oxygen tank and Mark was a raging asthmatic.

“Stay.”

So he did.

-

Nothing but a month after Jinyoung had left, it was Jaebums turn to go. 

It was a lot less dramatic than it was with the other pair; manager walking in the shop for the first time since they started working there; avoided the cracks in the floor and the flickering of the lights - it was a night where Mark had evening class, and they were bored of staring in each others faces for so long.

“Boys, we´re closing up for next month.”

“Holidays?” Jackson naively suggested. 

“No.” The manager, nervous and shoving the glasses up from the bridge of his nose even when it wasn´t necessary. “We´re closing.”

So with a final paycheck and an extra bonus, the doors got locked and Jackson felt like his breath was taken away. Jaebum patted his back a few times, and staring out at the parking lot they knew what was going on in the others mind. 

“How much does this place cost, you think?”

“More than you and I will ever earn.”

"It´s a shit hole. How is it gonna cost any more than a couple thousand?"

"You need permits or some shit to keep a gas station going, you know, we don´t have the knowledge for it. Too stupid."

“I hate this.”

And so did. Sitting on the car playing with a yoyo they found, they just sat there for a good three hours just staring. Staring at the parking lot. Sharing the space. Sharing some thoughts. Sharing the silence. Staring down the sun which exploded into a orange and blue mix in the sky, stars on one part and the raging sunshine on the other.

It was so cold, so cold Jackson wanted to go in the gasoline station with the broken heater just to feel his fingers; when he was about to stand up and do it, he saw the lock on the door.

“I fucking _hate_ this.” 

Jaebum leaned back. “Well, hopefully you won´t hate me too much.”

“What are you talking about?” Jackson said. "Yo, didn´t we leave some cereals in the backseat?"

“I got the intership in Japan.” He said. “At my second choice in Japan. The Murakami illustration house.”

-

Just like that, as easy as passing the page or adding a dot at the end of a paragraph to start a new one, Jaebum was gone, too. Jackson had asked him since when he had planned this, since when he enrolled in the internship program, since when Japan was ever a viable prospect for his future.

And Jaebum, polite Jaebum, answered all of his questions, told him he had been planning it since the beginning of the year, that it was part of the roster and all the students would work somewhere, someway, anyway, and that his first choice was in Chicago, but out of the five calls and interviews he´s had over the past month while Jackson was either fucking or buried in his schoolbooks, only Japan had called back.

So they were driving to the airport, just a week later.

“You should move in with Mark.” Jaebum suddenly said.

“Why?”

“Because you can´t afford to stay here.” He was right. Jackson couldn´t afford it at all anymore; but he still felt offended over his words, as if he was purposely ripping his pages and forcing him to write new ones, as if he was an evil devil from the good ol´ neighbour upstairs watching him get thrown in the whirlwind of change and struggle, struggle not to break his knees while at it.

Change around him, _all_ around him, not any change within.

There was a big, obvious and obnoxious difference between the two, just laughing in his face.

His brother graduated, BamBam had left to his roots to find some inner resolve, Jinyoung had left for a career opportunity reserved for the gifted minds and Jaebum was fighting for a place in the art world.

They were all, in one way or another, moving forward.

Except Jackson, and except Mark.

“Plus you´ve been dating for a year and a month. Isn´t this the right time to take the next step?”

“You´re just saying that to make yourself feel better.”

Jaebum grinned, closed the door of the car to ride to the airport.

“No, because I don´t even feel bad. It´s not the end of the world man, we´ll talk on the daily, hell, I´m even giving you the car keys so you can pay another month of rent or, like, drive your way to find a new job.” He paused. “Or sleep in here. Wouldn´t be the first time you´d do that.”

“Mark was drunk and I was tired - unlike some people _I_ don´t drive high.”

“Neither do I. Too bad I couldn´t give Mark a proper goodbye after he slapped me the other night.”

“First Jinyoung leaves and you leave. It´s a little suspicious if you ask me.”

The sun hit bright against the window, and Jaebum, in his white shirt and sunglasses, looked at Jackson for a good few seconds while waiting for the lights to turn green. He looked bored.

“How will you even afford it?” Jackson asked.

“I can´t. I´m living on loans.” He sighed and turned the volume of the radio up, pop music that was bubbly and perfectly matched the weather, just not the mood inside the car. “Jacks, it´s really not that dramatic. I´ll be back in a year.”

“I know, I know. It´s life, _right?_ I shouldn´t be surprised by now.”

“Oh life will surprise you.” Jaebum laughed. “It always does, who knows, the plane might crash and I´ll die, perhaps you´ll go back and Mark is planning on marrying you.”

“I would.” He said.

“You´d what?”

“Marry Mark.”

Jaebum frowned and scrunched up so hard he was worried his face might just break, but after losing control over the car and having Jackson step on his feet so hard he knows for a fact he has a fresh blue bruise to flaunt, he sighed.

“Well, fuck.”

-

To Jaebums advice, but going against the words he didn´t say but you could read off his face - words like _“you guys aren´t actually going to last”_ and _“you aren´t serious about marrying him, right?”_ \- Jackson moved in.

It was a month long process than had been put in motion long before that; Half of Jacksons belongings already had their home in Marks closet and desk, so the only thing that was left to do was inform the landlord and leave the keys behind -  He didn´t take much more with him, just the pillow that felt right and the last pair of shoes he _didn´t_ leave behind in Marks house.

Just like that, they started their life together, by the absence of everyone else in the world right now.

Two weeks. Two weeks of waking up next to each other or waking up the other for oversleeping and reminding them they had morning class; sometimes they ditched, other times they got distracted by each other spent the day in bed, touching, biting and a lot of kissing.

Mark had a whole lot of money saved up from child support before he turned eighteen, and he lived on loans, but even he realized he had to find a job soon - Jackson did, too.

In the third week of showering together Jackson tried to simulate a shower sex scene he had seen in a porn film once but had to find out the hard way that, for one part, shower sex is not realistic, for the other part, Mark will _not_ give up the shower head for anything in the world because _why_ would he freeze his nipples off if he didn´t _have_ to and, finally, that startling Mark in the shower while he was singing by himself would end up with Jackson, in all his naked glory, on the floor and thirty minutes later, in the hospital.

“He wanted to fuck in the shower, and I didn´t see him so I screamed and he fell over some soap and now lost consciousness.” He had said. And to make up for it, had given Jackson head in the hospital room without anyone noticing, some man with two broken legs behind the curtains.

In the fourth week of trying to cook for each other, Mark announced he had been hired at a DocMartens shop, and Jackson got some serious ab exercise done from laughing so hard over the irony of it all. That day, he kissed Marks nose and, that day, it was the first time in four weeks were he hadn´t slightly burnt their food. He called it a small victory.

In the fifth week of spending their Friday nights on the balcony with blankets and weed mainly because they had no more friends left in town to share it with and neither did they feel like making any new ones, it was Jacksons birthday and Mark had given him a a beautiful necklace that had a ring with their names engraved in it.

That night they had the luxurious dinner of three dollar pizza from the Turkish pizzeria downstairs, splurged on the couch watching Disney movies, and then fucking on the counter, mouth tasting like pepperoni and thighs burning from the exercise they did together that morning. It was the first time Mark suggested Jackson meet his parents.

In the sixth week of Jinyoung and Jaebum calling them daily, and then every other day, Mark sat Jackson down and massaged his shoulders after a long day at school, and talked about their relationship.

“I´m still sorry for choking you.”

Mark laughed it off and, on the seventh week of random spurts of frustration, neither of them mentioned it when Jackson did it again, and when Jackson asked him if he ever liked anyone else but him and his ex, Mark made sure not to even think of Jinyoung. That was also the week where Jackson had went to California and spent the weekend with Marks lovely, loving parents, and they held hands when they could and Mark gave him a grandiose tour of his hometown, the smaller corners and edgy backstreets.

According to all the rules in the book, they were settled in and happy, found a new balance in their lives that was comfortable, and never too crazy, but never boring, either.

After the eight week, Yugyeom met up with them once and, after the ninth, Jinyoung and Jaebum barely texted them once a week.

It was fine.

-

“Babe have you seen my tie?” 

“Yes. No. _Wait_ \- the black or red one?” 

“I don´t know, what´s more casual?” 

Jackson ruffled through the closet, flinging out all types of leopard and zebra printed boxers while effectively making a mess out of their newly cleaned floor - finding the tie, he ran at an Olympic pace towards the bed and almost slipped on one of the aforementioned "Wang" exclusive boxers and just barely avoided knocking himself out.

“Here, baby.” 

Mark smiled, and after struggling for a solid ninety seconds with the tie, Jackson stood up from his position in bed, admiring the other, and fixed it for him.

“Mister history teacher, you´re twenty five years old and you don´t know how to put on a tie?”

He poked his tongue out and blushed.

“Hey, you called me that when we first met, didn´t you?”

“I did?” 

He did. 

“Alright - shit, I´m late. Make sure you do the groceries.” He stepped in his shoes, checked his bags for the sixth time that morning. “And the laundry. It looks like it might rain -” shook his hair around a bit, considered taking his earrings off. “Oh, and if you could call your boss to get tomorrow off, that´d be great.”

“Ohh, exciting, what´s the occasion?”

“It´s our five year anniversary, jackass.” 

And he said it with all the love and adoration in his world; just because Jackson was part of it, and he knew that Jackson knew and, even if he didn´t, things like anniversaries stopped being a big deal long ago. If anything, it was just a good excuse to have a date.

“Good luck darling, I love you.” 

So with a peck and a cheeky french kiss initiated by Jackson, Mark blushed a lot and finally, he hopped in their car to his first ever teaching job. Jackson was proud of him. 

Almost right after Jackson waited outside the balcony for Mark to pass the block, the doorbell rang and jumping in his skin, Jackson opened it without even asking who it was - he definitely should have, though, not because there was a serial killer or a pimp waiting for him, but because it was a figure he definitely recognized, but just a lot bigger than he remembered.

“What the fuck.” He said. And shut the door in the others face.

“Hey!” He protested. “Is that how you´re gonna treat your bestfriend?” 

He knocked and bumped and kicked and laughed, all the while Jackson held on the door knob as if that would´ve prevented the other from actually kicking the door in. It wouldn´t. It would actually just cost him a door.

“Bestfriend? I have no such thing you creepy salesman!”

The knocking stopped for a brief five seconds.

“Do I _look_ like a fucking salesman?”

And with that, Jackson just _had_ to open the door, and after giving the other a good one-over, he realized that, shit, it really _was_ Jaebum after all, because muscle could only hide so much, and his depressingly white and bright smile was identical to the one he left with.

“No. You look like the guy who never came back. Im Jaebum, do you happen to know him?” 

“That guy working with Nike as an illustrator? Yup, he even gave me some chocolates to make it up to you.” 

Of course, chocolate solved everything in life, and that´s how they ended up on the couch, five years gone by yet it felt like yesterday, five years gone by and they´ve changed from boys to men, five years gone by, and Jackson had just a bit of a stubble, simpler clothes, Jaebum had dyed his hair to an an impossible shade of black, added more studs to his ears, smiled a lot brighter than he used to, and, overall, looked a lot more healthier since his diet didn´t consist out of ramen packs and rice.

“How´d you find our flat?” He asked.

“Jinyoung told me.” And despite it being a gift, Jaebum still had the chocolate on his own thighs and ate most of them. “Took me a while though. I passed by our old place by the way, there was a letter from Thailand.”

“BamBam?”

“Guess so. Didn´t open it since it was sent to the both of us. Damn these are good.” 

“How have you been doing?” He asked, opening the letter.

“I´m a fulltime illustrator, and-” He admired the taste of the chocolate some more, or perhaps he was wondering how to break the news without simultaneously breaking hell and maybe some bones after Jackson heard it. “-and, _I´m pregnant._ ”

He has definitely worded things better in his life before.

“Uh.”

“My girlfriend. I mean.”

Jackson blinked. Blinked once. Blinked twice.

“ _Excuse_ me?” 

“Yurika. Met her in Japan. Knocked her up. Oops.”

"What the actual fuck? Was it an accident? Planned?" He grabbed Jaebums hands and didn´t find a ring. "Oh my god, are you gonna keep it?"

"Don´t call our Yuki an accident, asshole." Jaebum said offended. "Let´s call it... _a happy consequence_."

"Oh my God. So it _wasn´t_ planned?"

Jaebum thought about it. "Not, like, _right now_. I´m shit surprised too you know? the kids supposed to be born in two months and she told me two weeks ago."

Jackson asked him how the hell he didn´t realize his girlfriend was pregnant, and Jaebum brilliantly responded saying he just thought she got bigger. Of course he would. He didn´t seem that stressed about it. Jaebum never looked stressed about anything in his life, how is being a father going to faze him in the slightest.

"You aren´t gonna walk out on them are you?"

"Fuck off. Why would you think that?"

"Because I know you. If the kitchen gets hot you´d rather work as the waiter."

Jaebum sighed.

"You have no idea what has happened the past five years. If I didn´t come to visit it isn´t because I didn´t want to, but because leaving for a week could easily fuck up my entire career. It´s a tough world out there, I know what the kitchen looks like."

And so they sat on the couch, a brief silence setting in.

"I´m serious, Jackson."

He thought about it, and then he tackled Jaebum on the couch.

"Ah fuck it, your son is gonna have to call you JB or something because I know you have a massive daddy kink and that´s just _weird._ "

“Oh the letter is from a year ago, by the way." He pointed at it. "I spoke to them way after that.”

“How are they?”

“BamBam lives in L.A  and Yugyeom is a tattoo artist but, eh, it´s not going too well with him.”

“How so?”

“BamBam told me he got fucked up good last year and ended up in rehab without any of us, or any of his actual family knowing. He´s been clean for a few months now, though. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Life. Last time you were broke, jobless and planning on marrying someone."

"Oh." He sat up, straddling Jaebum. "Oh. He´s a history teacher. I´m dating a teacher, would you believe?"

"Of course. And you?"

"I´m a receptionist. Don´t laugh at me."

"I´m not. Have the past five years been good to you?"

"T´is been good. Our anniversary is tomorrow."

"Any plans?"

"Actually... a ring sounds nice, doesn´t it?"

And then Jaebum laughed, laughed hard, and they stood up. "Have you bought it yet?"

"That´s a secret."

"Do your parents know?"

"They do. My brother just yelled that he knew it and my parents were...oddly accepting."

"Told ya so."

"Of course, you always tell me _everything_ , Jaebum."

"Any problems?"

"Squeaky clean and perfect."

He eyed him. Frowned. "That´s such a fucking lie, wow."

So Jackson went to the bathroom to wash his hands for no reason, and Jaebum sat on the toilet seat just to look at him. Jackson was lying, of course he was lying.

"Jacks, you don´t... let your anger get in the way of your relationship, right?"

"What?" He smiled. "Of course not."

"Right."

-

"Jaebum? Oh my God."

By the time Mark got home, he swayed his arms around and left his mouth hanging open when he found the pair on the couch playing videogames, he quickly stood up and swung Mark in the air, kissing his cheek.

"You look amazing, Mark."

"He didn´t tell _me_ that!"

They ignored him, and Mark smiled so wide it was partially embarrassing, he looked around, looking around, and Jaebum was always perceptive.

"Jinyoung is working with a huge company, Mark, he´ll probably come when he has time."

So Mark let it go.

"You´re still wearing leather..."

"And gold! Look at his watch, can´t you pay my student loans off?"

With that said, they bought junk food and although they were in they were about twenty five years old, they felt like they were thrown back in their college days, passing blunts and talking about what´s been going on in the past years; they talked about BamBam having grown even taller and having a girlfriend, Yugyeom as a tattoo artist and Jinyoung. Mark asked Jaebum if they still keep in touch, and Jaebum said he saw him just last week when he was in California.

"That guy is gonna get married to his job."

The next day, Jaebum left, promising to keep in touch, and Jackson nodded and they say they would.

However, when the door closed and they could hear the elevator going down, Jackson turned to Mark.

"We aren´t gonna see him again, are we?"

They probably weren´t.

So instead of being sad about it, he kissed Jackson, hard.

"Happy anniversary, babyboy."

"C´est la vie."

" _C´est la vie_."

"Say, would you marry me? I know we don´t have money right now, bu-"

But he got tackled, and they fell on the floor and Mark was on top of him, he could´ve gotten a concussion and maybe that was his intention, but they kissed on, anyways, and when Mark said he´d love to, Jackson knew he meant it.

And it was just that simple, that uneventful, that easy. It wasn´t perfect, was never going to be perfect, they´d suffered and will suffer a lot, they knew that, they were perfectly aware of it and yet, and _yet_ they didn´t mind it. Yet they were okay with it.

Because they had each other, maybe they _just_ had each other and, maybe, that was just enough.

They could wake up the next day, walk the streets and fall in love with another person in the Pizza Hut, or maybe their imperfections would get the best of them,

but for now, at that time,

It was just enough for them.

_Together._

* * *

**AN The final part is gonna be short. I said. What a fucking lie. As with all my chaptered stuff I´m not too happy with it, I like the first chapter and the first half of the last one, but I have a birthday in like, two hours, I have to shower and get dressed, yesterday I dropped dead after a tiring week and I just need to get this up today so, as always, thank you for reading and hopefully you liked it as much as I´ve liked writing it, anything you want to see for next time?**

**Ps. Someone drew some beautiful artwork for this fic, and I´m still screaming, it´s so pretty and nice,[here](https://twitter.com/mandumandumandu?lang=nl) it is.**

**Author's Note:**

> AN - Frankly I haven´t even proofread this and I totally will do that tomorrow and probably definitely most-likely regret being so deadset on posting once a week and find like, a million grammatical errors. Oh well. I was gonna post the entire story in one chapter but I got to 5k pretty damn quick, so I spared you all the whole deal. Anyways, did you like it? think the conclusion might be sad or fluffy? Is Mark OOC enough? thank you for reading<3


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